Iron Fic: Friendship and Magic
by The Chairman
Summary: Contestants were given 24 hours to write 1500 words using Friendship and Magic as the secret ingredients
1. An Outstretched Hand

Outside, the winds howled and the snow blew into high drifts. It was very cold, but the snow covered the remaining signs of war: damaged trees, half-knocked over walls, gouged-out spots in the lawns. After a while the storm faded and the clouds drifted off, content with their night's work. The moon shone on a world of gleaming white. It was a clean slate, a blank canvas, or a fresh start. To a lonely young wizard looking out a window, it was a magic he would never again know. For him, there was no chance at new beginnings. For him, the broken grounds were more representative of who and what he was.

Not so the gathering in the Great Hall. This year of all years, hardly anyone went home from Hogwarts. Since there were eight years during this term, that meant a great many students enjoying the Yule meal between trees magically decorated with fairy lights and other decorations. The tables were heaped with food and participants were filled with the joy and delight of the season.

"Come, my boy, you should enjoy the festivities."

"I'm not very much in the mood. I should have gone home with the rest of my house." He would have, if there had been any home to go to. His parents' estate had been stripped away, pending Wizengamot findings. His mother was reduced to taking charity from her Mudblood-lover of a sister while his father was in prison. He couldn't face his aunt, nor the werewolf-pup that they told him was his cousin.

"You stayed for a reason. You must have wanted to be part of this."

He stifled the urge to sigh petulantly and summoned the respectful mien that had gotten him through seven and a half years at Hogwarts. After all, Slughorn was now one of the heroes, and therefore a person who could help him. "Professor, I appreciate your concern, but I really think I'm better off out here."

"All right, my boy, if you're sure."

"Thank you, but I rather prefer the atmosphere out here."

Professor Slughorn went back into the Great Hall, and the young wizard finally heaved the sigh he had held in during the entire conversation. A wave of hopelessness worked through him. Even the pristine world outside seemed to reject him, now. The fury of the storm had suited him better.

He had once had a confidante within the walls of the school, but she had moved on, one of the ghosts who decided, after the struggles of the war and last battle, that whatever waited in the next life might be worth whatever trouble it took to get there. She had never been much of a friend, anyway. She would listen up to a point and then try to turn the conversation over to her own death. It was an obsession with her. Perhaps the death of her own murderer gave her the incentive to see what would happen to him in the next life.

A roar came from the Great Hall as the students started cheering for various people and causes. He listened as the inevitable people were named. Harry Potter came first, of course. It was insufferable that he should be in the same year as the Boy-who-lived, who went on to kill the Dark Lord. What did Potter know of adversity? Potter never had to deal with the family _he_ had. Parents with an overblown sense of destiny and crazy relatives. He chided himself for a moment. His parents loved him, whatever else was true, and he had known real affection and never a single bit of want until the Dark Lord moved into their home.

"Three cheers for Harry Potter!" came from the hall.

"Whoop dee doo," responded the wizard at the window. He had offered Potter the hand of friendship at one time, and been rejected. There was a principle at stake, here. If Potter was so wonderful, let him offer friendship to him.

"Three cheers for Hermione Granger!"

"Not on your life," he muttered. He would never cheer for the Mudblood, even if he was under Imperio. She was far too much of a know at all to suit him. She had insinuated herself into a friendship with Potter, and she had become far too pretty to be allowed for someone who had everything else in the world at her disposal, now. Pretty? Where did that come from? There wasn't time to wonder.

"Three cheers for Ron Weasley!"

He shrugged and left it at that. Weasley wasn't a bad sort, really. It was hardly his fault that his family was so poor, and now he, himself, was in straits as dire. A childish wish sprung into his heart that the Wizengamot would be merciful to his family. The beginning of a tear came to his eye, but he swallowed hard and forced it away.

"Three cheers for Headmaster Dumbledore!"

Of course, it was inevitable, that they would cheer for the Headmaster who spent decades blaming one House for every problem that ever happened in the Wizarding world. He'd seen enough of it in his time, the way Dumbledore would constantly give all the credit for anything to Gryffindor. For one brief year the tables had been turned, but now the Headmistress was Gryffindor again, and although she obviously tried to be more fair than Dumbledore, there was still a bias.

"Three cheers for Severus Snape!"

He couldn't stop the tear from escaping this time as the gravestone next to Dumbledore's tomb seemed to gleam for an instante. Snape had been his head, his mentor, and, if he'd only recognized it during his sixth year, his best friend. If only he'd been paying more attention to his professor's advice, and if only he had looked out for his professor once in a while. No one ever understood what should have been plain to see, especially to anyone who was a Slytherin.

"Three cheers for Slytherin House."

It was said quietly from the floor below and caused him to whip around. He couldn't help sneering, although the only advantage he had anymore was that he was on the landing of the staircase while the other wizard was on the bottom. "I don't need you to condescend to me."

"It's not condescension."

"Oh, really? I'm beaten, not stupid. Your side won the war, and now you'll have the rest of our lives to lord it over me."

"So why did you come back to finish your education? Why not go to Durmstrang?"

He turned toward the window. "I needed to be near my parents."

"Your mother saved my life. I'm going to do everything I can to help them."

He turned back around and snarled, "And then you'll have the rest of our lives to lord that over me, too."

He had the pleasure of seeing Potter flinch. "That's not my intention. I just want everyone to get their due."

"Well, my due seems to be to suffer as the loser for a while and to watch my parents suffer. Congratulations to you."

"Your mother seems to be doing as well as she can, under the circumstances."

"How could you possibly know anything about my mother?"

"I hear from Mrs. Tonks about Teddy from time to time."

"Of course you do, but what could you possibly know about my mother?"

Potter shrugged. "I just meant... she says her sister is resting and seems to be as happy as possible."

"You should stay out of it, Potter. My aunt, such as she is, can't possibly know anything about a sister she ignored for twenty-five years." It wasn't true, but Potter couldn't know about the desperate-sounding cards that came every Christmas, begging for an acknowledgment from the family that had disowned her. His aunt had been only too pathetically happy to have a chance to do something for his mother. It was their family's only source of pride

"I know, I'm usually wrong about everything." Potter sighed and came half way up the stairs. "I know I was wrong when we were firsties and I rejected your friendship out of hand. I don't think it was possible for us to be friends, but we didn't have to be enemies."

It was a fair assessment of the situation. He shrugged noncommittally and said, "I suppose."

"Can you forgive me for that? For turning away your offer of friendship?"

He couldn't answer that question. It was outside of his experience to receive an apology, not like this.

"Because I'm still not sure we could be actual friends... not like I'm friends with Ron and Hermione... but I'd like to think we could be co-workers in whatever this new world of ours will look like. I'd like you to be one of the people who helps to rebuild."

It was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard, and yet it couldn't be anything but honest. Potter had no guile. If it had been Granger or even Weasley, he would wonder, but not Potter.

He looked out the window, at the blanket of snow. An unfamiliar sort of magic stole through his mind. Perhaps he _could_ have a fresh start. He turned to Potter, whose hand was outstretched. Slowly, because he still wasn't sure if it was the best option, but because he knew it was his only option, he edged forward and stretched out his own hand.


	2. Entry 2: Untitled

Hannah sat by the lake on a spring afternoon. She had finished exams and was practicing her magic. Hannah was back at Hogwarts and in her seventh year. She wanted to complete her education. After Hannah's mother died, she knew her mother would want her to complete her education. So, after the war, Hannah came back to school.

Outside of school Hannah wouldn't be allowed to practice magic, but inside Hogwarts she knew she would be all right. That is, as long as none of the teachers saw her. She took her wand, moved her wrist in a quick flick, and made a tulip hover in midair. Within a second she transfigured it into a butterfly.

The blonde smiled as she watched the butterfly fly away. Transfiguration was one of her favorite classes at Hogwarts. Most importantly, Hannah loved the magic it brought when she transfigured an object into an animal.

It was at that moment when he came walking past, looking troubled. He had this look on his face as if the late Professor Snape had given him a bad report in front of the class because of a mistake.. He sat a few feet away from Hannah, watching the butterfly fly away. As soon it was gone, his focus went towards the lake. Hannah eyed him cautiously. She took another tulip and transfigured it into a butterfly.

He stared, moved close to her–but not too close–and focused on the yellow butterfly. He shifted uncomfortably as he watched her take another tulip.

"How do you do that?" he managed to mumble out.

"My mother taught me. It was her favorite trick; it's why transfiguration became my favorite."

"I'm sorry about your mother," Neville said, understanding how it felt to lose parents.

"It's not your fault. Neville, how are you doing in Transfiguration?" she asked calmly as she took the flower and held it in her palm. Her other hand held her wand.

"Actually, that was my last exam. I've failed miserably." He looked like he was about to cry.

"I'm sure you didn't fail," she said soothingly.

"Oh really? I was suppose to turn a chair into a turtle. Do you want to know what happened?" He stared at Hannah, cross. His hands picked up a nearby piece of grass and started playing with it.

"I'm kind of scared to ask. But knowing you, I think you might have done something wrong or tripped or-" She stopped dead in her tracks, realizing who she was talking to. Deep sympathy formed in her eyes as she dropped the tulip. Hannah knew what little friendship they had was ruined. He stood up immediately, dropping his piece of grass.

"Neville, I-" she started to say.

"Forget it. I don't want to hear it."he said as he started to walk off. Hannah stared at him for a second before she quickly moved in front of him.

"Neville, I'm sorry. No, don't leave. I didn't mean to say-"

"Say what Hannah? Say the one thing that everyone says behind my back? Sure, I'm a known klutz. Didn't I kill the snake during the war? No one cares about that anymore. They still see me as a klutz in classes. They don't care about what I think or how I feel. I thought you were different. I thought I could act myself around you." He flew his hands up and put them down by his side just as fast as he stared at her. A fresh batch of tears formed in her brown eyes. She wanted to say something comforting, but was afraid if she opened her mouth to speak, she would say something wrong again. He stared at her and then took off, leaving her alone.

Spring faded slowly into summer. Hannah finished her schooling and graduated from Hogwarts. She turned towards the castle as she held her trunk with one hand. It was her very last day; a bittersweet moment for her. As soon as she saw him standing a few feet away, Hannah wished she could go back in time and take back what she said. Susan stood a few feet away from her and turned towards what her friend was staring at.

"Has he spoken to you since the incident?" Susan asked Hannah turning back towards her.

Hannah's brown eyes found Neville's. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, each thinking back to the day Hannah practically called him a klutz.

"No," Hannah said as she turned away from him. She squinted her eyes-the sun had just reached high point above them.

"The train will be here soon," Susan said as they made their way with the rest of the school down towards Hogsmead.

There he stood, a few feet away from them as they waited for the train.

"You should talk to him," Susan encouraged her.

"Huh? Why?" Hannah asked as she snapped out of her thoughts.

"He could use a friend."

"He has Hermione and Ginny." Hannah eyed the three standing away from her.

"They're more like his sisters than his friends," Susan replied.

"He's never alone. Since the war, Hermione and Ginny never leave his side," Hannah automatically replied. Deep down, she didn't want to speak to Neville again. She had embarrassed herself in front of him. From then on she worried she'd make a fool of herself again in front of him.

"Maybe he'll be alone on the train," Susan said hopefully.

"Maybe," Hannah squeaked out.

In no time at all, they were on the train. Susan and Hannah managed to find an empty compartment. Just as Susan sat down with her cat, the compartment door opened. Hermione stood in the threshold of the door with her own ginger haired cat.

"Would it be alright if we sat with you?" Hermione motioned to Ginny and Neville.

"Everywhere else is full," she added.

Hannah and Susan glanced at each other.

"I'll just go find somewhere else." Neville spoke without looking at Hannah.

"Neville, there's room for all of us," Ginny said calmly, pulling on Neville's arm.

"Ginny, I'm allowed to wander the corridor all by myself," Neville snapped at his friend as he stormed out. Ginny stood back a few steps closer to Hermione with a confused expression.

"I think I'm going for a walk," Hannah informed the others as Hermione and Ginny sat down.

Hannah caught up with him just as he was turning the corner.

"What was that about?" she demanded, stepping in front of him.

"I don't feel like being in the same compartment as you. No offense," Neville said, crossing his arms.

"Excuse me, but you offended me back there."

"Ever since that day, I don't feel like talking to you. I thought Hufflepuffs were the caring type." He threw the fact that she was a Hufflepuff in a face. Something Hannah thought Neville would never do.

"I'm not a Hufflepuff anymore." She sulked.

"Once a Hufflepuff, always a Hufflepuff," he grumbled.

"Neville, look, you're acting very different. I'm sorry for what I said that day. I really am. I didn't mean to say it at all. Or think it for that matter. I don't think of you as a klutz," Hannah apologized.

"Hannah, yes, you hurt my feelings that day. I'm always being called a klutz. I just didn't expect it coming from you." Neville paused. "But I accept your apology. Now leave me alone please."

"Neville, I didn't mean to call you a klutz," she quietly said.

"No, Hannah you might not have meant to, but I've been called one several times. When you called me one, it was the last straw. I'm tired of it," he admitted.

He started to walk off, but Hannah grabbed his hand. In those few moments of holding his hand she knew something changed between the two of them. She stared at him, her eyes fixed on him alone as if they were the only two on the train. She could have sworn she felt his hand grip tighter onto hers. Hannah tried letting go, but he wouldn't let her. She tried again, and watched as her fingers slipped through his. Hannah looked away hoping he wouldn't see her blush. Whatever happened with one touch between them changed her forever.

"Come back with me." Her statement wasn't an order. It was more of a wish.

"What just happened?" Neville asked, shaking his head. All of his anger disappeared with one touch.

"I don't know, but come back with me," she pleaded.

"Hannah, can I see you over the summer?" Neville forced out.

"I don't know where I'll be, but I'll write you."

"I'd like that," he said taking her hand again. This time, she felt a different kind of magic. One that let her know their friendship was back on again. One that told her everything would be all right. Together they walked back to where their friends were, holding hands.


End file.
